“I’ll bet you don’t get much business from the ACLU,” Sid observed matter-of-factly.
Gray laughed. “Mr. Harness, we’re not a public institution. This is a private and very professional clinic. While we treat people’s privacy with the utmost care, believe me, we take our responsibilities for their safety most seriously. Your principal is spending a small fortune to come here for a procedure. We will make sure that she is satisfied.”
“Yeah, right,” Lymon said woodenly.
At Gray’s curious look, he added, “Mr. Gray, don’t misunderstand. The lady’s my principal, and I’m a professional. But then, so are you, so let me give you a heads-up. A courtesy, if you will, from one pro to another. Let’s just say that Ms. Weaver is a little, um, flighty. She’s not one to stick things out, if you know what I mean.” He glanced at Sid. “What do you think? Fifty-fifty?”
Sid shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Meaning?” Gray asked.
“Meaning that we might get a call from Ms. Weaver at midnight tonight asking—no demanding—that we get her out of here.” Lymon shrugged. “It’s our job. What we’re paid for. If she decides she doesn’t want to go through with this procedure of hers, what’s the drill?”
Gray frowned, lips pursed. “If she doesn’t, it will complicate things. A lot of people have gone to a lot of trouble to set this up.”
Lymon glanced away, lowering his voice. “The people who run her trust are used to, shall we say, ‘situations.’ My job is to see that we accede to her demands. If we need a helicopter, can we get one?”
“It’ll be expensive.”
Lymon laughed. “She can afford it. And it’s always in the middle of the night.”
“If we can’t use the helicopter that’s currently aboard, I’ll be able to summon one from the mainland. It might take as much as a couple of hours, or she could go by means of one of the ship’s launches, if necessary.”
“Thanks. That’s good to know.”
“What’s down there?” Sid asked as they passed a stairway leading down. A substantial steel grating barred passage. It reminded Lymon of one of the scarier scenes in the movie Titanic.
“That leads to the lower decks.” Gray turned, a fist in his palm. “Gentlemen, your access is restricted to B Deck. If you wish to visit other areas of the ship, please don’t hesitate to call my office and a guide will be assigned. We are happy to accommodate visits to places like the engine room, the bridge, and galley. Because of the sensitive and private nature of our work, some portions of the ship are off-limits to unauthorized personnel.” He gave a forced smile. “We have had people in the past who, for reasons of their own, tried to break our security. It is our standing rule that anyone who does so will be confined, and removed from this vessel at first opportunity. Am I understood?”
“Fair enough,” Lymon replied easily.
At the end of the corridor Gray opened the large double doors and led them out onto an open deck surrounded by white steel railings. A large pool dominated the center, surrounded by lounge chairs and tables. Another bar was covered by the overhang to the right of the doors. A healthy-looking man and an attractive brunette woman were lounging in a small whirlpool to one side. They looked up, smiled, and waved.
“More clients?”
“Yes. Leaving tomorrow, actually. Traveled down from Canada with us.” Gray pointed overhead. “Up the steps you will find the tennis courts.” He indicated the davits that could just be seen beyond the railing. “Lifeboats are just there on either side of the ship. Peter would have already shown you where flotation devices are located in your room closets. These large cabinets to either side contain others in case we have to evacuate when you’re away from the room.”
“What about the other guests?” Sid asked.
“We’d like a list if we could,” Lymon added. “It would give us an opportunity to interface with their security, let them know who we are and vice versa.”
“As of this moment, you are the only party aboard with security.” Gray gave him a sharp look. “As I said, we take our clients’ security very seriously. There are currently no persons aboard who could be considered threats to your principal. Given our monitoring, we will be on top of it in an instant if there is.”
“Sounds good.” Lymon looked around, seeing nothing but empty ocean beyond. It wasn’t a new vista. He and Sid had spent weeks looking out at water from ships in the Persian Gulf. The afternoon sky had taken on a brassy look.
“Is this your first time on a ship?” Gray asked, reading his expression.
“Not hardly.”
Gray’s beeper went off, and he lifted a small radio from his belt, flipping it open. “Yes?”
“Sir, when you can, we need you in the barn. There’s a situation you should be aware of.”
“On my way.” Gray reholstered his radio. “Gentlemen, if you need anything, dial the operator. I, or one of my staff, will be back to you immediately.” He gave a brief nod. “And thanks for the heads-up on your principal. I’ll make sure the proper people are notified in case she changes her mind.” He looked back and forth between them. “Anything else?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Then, if you will excuse me, I’ll get back to the grind.” Gray shook hands again and disappeared through the double doors into the hallway.
“What do you make of that?” Sid asked.
“Top of the line, right down to the helicopter. You think he recognized me?”
“Who?” Then Sid made a chopping gesture, warning in his dark eyes. “Hold that thought and follow me.”
Sid led the way to the railing farthest from the bathing couple. As they faced out at the ocean, where swells were shining in the late-afternoon sun, Sid said between gritted teeth, “The room’s bugged. We’re under a fucking microscope.”
“You sure?” Lymon asked as he looked down at the water rippling along the steel hull so far below.
“Yeah, I found what I think is a Super Vanguard Sciax system in both Jennifer’s room and ours. The thing uses top-of-the-line fiberoptics, microlensing, and computer-enhanced resolution, as well as superb directional audio capability. You can hear someone digesting a pizza from across the room. We considered it for surveillance, but it got axed in the budget. Absolutely incredible what it will do. Hell, for all I know, they’ve got a long-range microphone on us now. Be careful, Lymon. Tell Jennifer to be careful.”
“Right.”
Sid shook his head. “You and your crime scene. Shit. You can’t pass a fart in this place without someone knowing.” A pause. “What were you going to say back there?”
“You recognize Gray?”
“Should I?”
“You’ve seen his picture. LA, at Christal’s apartment the night she got grabbed.”
Sid’s face hardened. “He didn’t place you?”
“Not that I could see. If he did, he was better at hiding it than I would have been.”
“Think Christal’s here?”
“Got me.” Lymon frowned down at the shifting waters.
“But with this kind of security, I don’t think they’re going to let us go poking around looking for her.”
“Shit! We gotta get the hell out of here.”
“Yeah, let’s just hope that helicopter is ready when Jennifer throws her fit.”
“Amen.” Sid looked at him. “Lymon, if your friend Gray wanted to keep us here, what could we do about it?”
“Got me. Whatever it is that we’d have do, it wouldn’t be pretty.”
“Whu-up!” Sid answered in military slang.
47
At the knock on the door, Sheela was surprised to find Mary Abernathy standing there. Something seemed to have changed. The woman studied Sheela with a strange new intensity, as if seeing her for the first time. “May I come in?”
Sheela wore her shy Jennifer smile and nodded, stepping back.
Abernathy entered with the self-assurance of an M1 battle tank. In a clipped voice she s
aid, “Our Mr. Gray is providing orientation for your security. I thought we should have a little chat.”
As Abernathy took a seat, Sheela settled herself on the overstuffed chair just opposite her. “Okay.”
“How are your quarters here?” Where did the hostile tone in her voice come from?
“Just fine. I was expecting, oh, I don’t know. Like hammocks and little round portholes. Not like a real hotel.”
“Had anything to eat?”
“No. And I’m starved.”
Abernathy leaned forward, her smile oddly forced. “Outside of starvation, how are you feeling?”
Sheela took a moment to fidget, then let her glance slide sideways. “I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?”
Sheela managed a trite Jennifer nod. “Who were the pregnant women? You know, this morning on the launch … . There were two pregnant women.”
Abernathy hesitated. “Not all of our clients are young and healthy like you are. And some, believe it or not, are actually male. For a fee Genesis Athena will provide a surrogate mother. It’s expensive, but for many people it’s the only option.”
“I see.” She made it plain that she didn’t.
“All right.” Abernathy pressed her hands together. “What if you’re a single father and your son dies suddenly? What if you want another child? What if that bereaved man feels like you do, Jennifer? What if he wants a specific child? Should we deny him when we can help you?”
“Well, I, uh …”
“No!” Abernathy waved it away as if it were an irritation. “And it’s not just men. We know of women, who for reasons of age, or biology, cannot have children. Maybe they’ve had cancer or had a hysterectomy. Perhaps they’re female corporate executives who can’t take time out for a pregnancy. Do we deny them but only help people like the Smith couple you met this morning?”
“Well, I don’t know.”
Abernathy leaned back, one eyebrow lifted. “Jennifer, do you believe in equality?”
“Sure.”
“Then why is it, when it comes to reproductive biology, only some people are allowed to reproduce, and others aren’t?”
Sheela frowned, actually disturbed by the way Mary Abernathy had phrased the question. “It’s not a matter of being allowed, is it?”
“Can a man have a child without a female partner?”
“No.”
“Is it right?”
“Well … it’s how God made us.”
“Ah! Of course. God. But, Jennifer, we’ve been interfering with the way God made us for centuries now. In most cases a baby born prematurely will die without medical intervention. With modern technology we can save it and it will grow up to have a normal and happy life. Or would you let it die?”
“Of course I’d save it.”
“What if it has a perforated septum in its heart? What’s your choice? Do you operate to save it, or let it die?”
“Operate.
“But that’s interfering with the way God made that baby.”
“But reproducing is different, isn’t it? I mean, men were born men.”
“Why should a man not be allowed the same rights a woman has? In the past, our hypothetical baby would have died because we couldn’t do anything to save it. We didn’t have the technology. Until now, a man couldn’t reproduce himself. Genesis Athena makes that possible. If we can provide our service to you, why can’t we provide the same service for a man? The end result is the same: You, or he, will have a healthy baby to raise, to be your child. You have a right to a family, Jennifer. Why doesn’t a man?”
She put a hand to her mouth. “I guess …”
“Yes, I think you understand. It’s a matter of essential equality. At Genesis Athena, we’re leveling the playing field for the first time in human history.”
Sheela sat back. “So, it’s all just a matter of technology? Of tools and science? You’re saying that because we can, we should?”
Abernathy smiled kindly. “What you’re asking is, Where do you draw the line? No, that’s not the real issue, is it? The question is, Why should you draw a line at all?”
Sheela frowned. “I guess, since I’m here, I’m not the one to ask that.”
“Good.” Mary stood. “Are you settled?”
Sheela nodded, looking around. “I’m unpacked. And, well, I don’t know. All of a sudden, I’ve kind of …”
“A little scared?” Abernathy asked as if she knew full well what Jennifer was going to answer.
“I guess.”
“Come on. Let’s go for a short walk. I want to show you something, and introduce you to some people you’ll be working with.”
Sheela hesitated. On the one hand, she wanted Lymon close by. On the other, if, as she suspected, they were going to do the usual doctor-patient chat where everything was explained in detail, it would give her the excuse she needed to back out.
“Will it take long?”
“Barring complications, half an hour, if that. We’ll treat you to a marvelous dinner when we’re finished.”
Sheela seemed to mull it over. “Sure. Let me contact Lymon so he doesn’t tear the ship apart looking for me.”
“Use the phone.” Abernathy pointed. “He’ll find the voice message when he and Mr. Gray return from their tour.”
She gave the woman her insecure Jennifer smile and reached for the phone. After leaving a message for Lymon, she followed Abernathy out into the corridor and to the right, where one of the elevators waited, doors open.
Sheela stepped inside. She watched Abernathy press the button for H Deck. “You’re going to like the people who will be working with you. We’ve found that if instead of waiting out the first night alone, you socialize with the staff, you’ll feel better about the procedure.”
“I see.”
Abernathy studied her thoughtfully as the lift slowed, dinged, and the door opened. “We’ve also determined from the blood sample I took in New York that our window is very narrow.”
Sheela followed her out into a white corridor. “What window is that?”
“A most curious biological one. This way.”
Two men in white uniforms, both darkly complected, stepped out, nodding at Mary Abernathy. They dropped in behind Sheela as Mary started off down the hall.
Sheela glanced nervously at the men following behind, wondering if Jennifer should say anything, or just take this in stride.
Abernathy seemed brusque, oddly tense. Or was it just that things had happened so fast? She hadn’t had time to just sit and think, to put the plan in order.
Abernathy stopped before a door marked EXAMINATION and opened it. “If you’d step inside, Jennifer.”
Sheela entered to find a wood-veneer paneled waiting room with comfortable couches, a coffee table, and magazines. Soft music drifted down from the speakers. It could have been lifted from any doctor’s office in the country.
Abernathy gave a signal to the two men, who remained outside, and closed the door. “The nice thing”—Abemathy gestured Sheela to follow her—“is that we don’t have to wait. Come on. We’re all set.”
“For what?” Sheela asked as she stepped into a hallway and was led down to a small room. Here, what looked like a dentist’s chair dominated a small examining room. The noxious odors of medical chemicals stung her nose.
“Take a seat,” Abernathy told her. “It’s the most comfortable one in the house.” She made a face. “Oh, don’t worry. We just need to take a blood sample. Simple really. It has to be done while you’ve got an empty stomach. As soon as we do the vampire thing, we’ll be off for dinner with our specialists so that you have a chance to relax.”
As Sheela uncertainly settled into the seat, an attractive young woman of either Middle Eastern or Indian descent entered. She was perhaps thirty, with high cheeks and sleek black hair pulled back and clipped. Her white uniform was slightly baggy, somewhat Oriental in style. “Hello, Ms. Weaver. I’m Asza. This will only take a moment.” She walked up and
smiled down at Sheela in a reassuring manner. “You’ll barely feel a thing.”
Sheela glanced down at the syringe in the woman’s hand. “Uh, I don’t know if I want to—”
“Shhh!” Abernathy put a playful finger to her lips. “It’s just a hormone to prepare your system. Trust me, it won’t hurt a bit. It won’t affect you at all. Well, sometimes women have minor hot flashes the next day, but that’s about it.”
“Wait!” Sheela said as Asza leaned down and swabbed her arm with alcohol. “I’m not ready for this!”
“The empty stomach,” Abernathy said, leaning down and insisting. “It’s very important. And then, in a shake, we’re off to dinner. I think you’ll enjoy it. We’ve got a baked halibut that’s marinated in …”
Sheela missed the rest as she looked down. Asza had slipped the sharp needle into Sheela’s arm. She watched in horror as the plunger injected a clear fluid into her vein.
Hank and April bent over the small table studying their latest assignment: obtaining a sample from George Clooney. The actor was currently shooting a film in New York. Hank and April had been perusing the street maps, comparing them with the locations the production company had filed with the New York film commission, and trying to decipher the security at the New York Four Seasons Hotel.
“There are a million ways to do this. It’s DNA, for God’s sake!”
“It has to be high-profile,” April insisted. “People have to know that we’ve got the real thing.”
The room phone rang. April lifted the receiver, listened, and said, “We’ve got to go. Security center. Now.”
“What’s up?”
“Security alert. Something big’s coming down.”
Next thing they were in the hall, Hank following on her heels. He liked hurrying along behind April. The view from the rear was delightful.
Their route took them up two decks and down a long central corridor. A large metal hatch was marked SECURITY CENTER. April ran her fingers over a numerical keypad, then spun the wheel.
“We’ve got a problem,” Neal told them as they entered. He stood in front of a bank of glowing monitors in the security center. Each screen showed different parts of the ship. The feed from each camera was monitored by the central computer. As long as no movement was detected, the computer ignored that image. It was a neat system, smart, and helped avoid errors that came from boredom on the operator’s part.